PS 

1522 

B69 

1914 

MAIN 


NRLF 


THE  BOY  SCOUT 


THE  BOY  SCOUT 

BY 

RICHARD   HARDING   DAVIS 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1914 


Copyright,  1914,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
Published  May,  1914 


THE  BOY  SCOUT 


THE   BOY  SCOUT 

/\  RULE  of  the  Boy  Scouts  is  every 
day  to  do  some  one  a  good  turn. 
Not  because  the  copy-books  tell  you  it 
deserves  another,  but  in  spite  of  that 
pleasing  possibility.  If  you  are  a  true 
scout,  until  you  have  performed  your 
act  of  kindness  your  day  is  dark.  You 
are  as  unhappy  as  is  the  grown-up  who 
has  begun  his  day  without  shaving  or 
reading  the  New  York  Sun.  But  as 
soon  as  you  have  proved  yourself  you 
may,  with  a  clear  conscience,  look  the 
world  in  the  face  and  untie  the  knot  in 
your  kerchief. 

3 


The  Boy  Scout 

Jimmie  Reeder  untied  the  accusing 
knot  in  his  scarf  at  just  ten  minutes 
past  eight  on  a  hot  August  morning 
after  he  had  given  one  dime  to  his 
sister  Sadie.  With  that  she  could  either 
witness  the  first-run  films  at  the  Pal 
ace,  or  by  dividing  her  fortune  patron 
ize  two  of  the  nickel  shows  on  Lenox 
Avenue.  The  choice  Jimmie  left  to 
her.  He  was  setting  out  for  the  an 
nual  encampment  of  the  Boy  Scouts  at 
Hunter's  Island,  and  in  the  excitement 
of  that  adventure  even  the  movies 
ceased  to  thrill.  But  Sadie  also  could 
be  unselfish.  With  a  heroism  of  a 
camp-fire  maiden  she  made  a  gesture 
which  might  have  been  interpreted  to 
mean  she  was  returning  the  money. 

"I  can't,  Jimmie!"  she  gasped.  "I 
4 


The  Boy  Scout 

can't  take  it  off  you.     You   saved   it, 
and  you  ought  to  get  the  fun  of  it." 

"I  haven't  saved  it  yet,"  said  Jimmie. 
"I'm  going  to  cut  it  out  of  the  railroad 
fare.  I'm  going  to  get  off  at  City  Is 
land  instead  of  at  Pelham  Manor  and 
walk  the  difference.  That's  ten  cents 
cheaper." 

Sadie  exclaimed  with  admiration: 
"An'  you  carryin'  that  heavy  grip!" 
"Aw,  that's  nothin',"  said  the  man 
of  the  family. 

"Good-by,  mother.  So  long,  Sadie." 
To  ward  off  further  expressions  of 
gratitude  he  hurriedly  advised  Sadie  to 
take  in  "The  Curse  of  Cain"  rather 
than  "The  Mohawks'  Last  Stand,"  and 
fled  down  the  front  steps. 

He  wore  his  khaki  uniform.     On  his 
5 


The  Boy  Scout 

shoulders  was  his  knapsack,  from  his 
hands  swung  his  suitcase  and  between 
his  heavy  stockings  and  his  "shorts" 
his  kneecaps,  unkissed  by  the  sun,  as 
yet  unscathed  by  blackberry  vines, 
showed  as  white  and  fragile  as  the 
wrists  of  a  girl.  As  he  moved  toward 
the  "L"  station  at  the  corner,  Sadie 
and  his  mother  waved  to  him;  in  the 
street,  boys  too  small  to  be  scouts 
hailed  him  enviously;  even  the  police 
man  glancing  over  the  newspapers  on  the 
news-stand  nodded  approval. 

"You  a  Scout,  Jimmie?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  retorted  Jimmie,  for  was  not 
he  also  in  uniform?  "I'm  Santa  Claus 
out  filling  Christmas  stockings." 

The  patrolman  also  possessed  a  ready 
wit. 


The  Boy  Scout 

"Then  get  yourself  a  pair,"  he  ad 
vised.  "If  a  dog  was  to  see  your 
.legs " 

Jimmie  escaped  the  insult  by  fleeing 
up  the  steps  of  the  Elevated. 

An  hour  later,  with  his  valise  in  one 
hand  and  staff  in  the  other,  he  was 
tramping  up  the  Boston  Post  Road 
and  breathing  heavily.  The  day  was 
cruelly  hot.  Before  his  eyes,  over  an 
interminable  stretch  of  asphalt,  the  heat 
waves  danced  and  flickered.  Already 
the  knapsack  on  his  shoulders  pressed 
upon  him  like  an  Old  Man  of  the  Sea; 
the  linen  in  the  valise  had  turned  to 
pig  iron,  his  pipe-stem  legs  were  wab 
bling,  his  eyes  smarted  with  salt  sweat, 
and  the  fingers  supporting  the  valise 
7 


The  Boy  Scout 

belonged  to  some  other  boy,  and  were 
giving  that  boy  much  pain.  But  as 
the  motor-cars  flashed  past  with  rau 
cous  warnings,  or,  that  those  who  rode 
might  better  see  the  boy  with  bare 
knees,  passed  at  "half  speed,"  JimmJe 
stiffened  his  shoulders  and  stepped 
jauntily  forward.  Even  when  the  joy 
riders  mocked  with  "Oh,  you  Scout!" 
he  smiled  at  them.  He  was  willing  to 
admit  to  those  who  rode  that  the  laugh 
was  on  the  one  who  walked.  And  he 
regretted — oh,  so  bitterly — having  left 
the  train.  He  was  indignant  that  for 
his  "one  good  turn  a  day"  he  had  not 
selected  one  less  strenuous.  That,  for 
instance,  he  had  not  assisted  a  fright 
ened  old  lady  through  the  traffic.  To 
refuse  the  dime  she  might  have  offered, 
8 


The  Boy  Scout 

as  all  true  scouts  refuse  all  tips,  would 
have  been  easier  than  to  earn  it  by 
walking  five  miles,  with  the  sun  at 
ninety-nine  degrees,  and  carrying  ex 
cess  baggage.  Twenty  times  James 
shifted  the  valise  to  the  other  hand, 
twenty  times  he  let  it  drop  and  sat 
upon  it. 

And  then,  as  again  he  took  up  his 
burden,  the  Good  Samaritan  drew  near. 
He  drew  near  in  a  low  gray  racing-car 
at  the  rate  of  forty  miles  an  hour,  and 
within  a  hundred  feet  of  Jimmie  sud 
denly  stopped  and  backed  toward  him. 
The  Good  Samaritan  was  a  young  man 
with  white  hair.  He  wore  a  suit  of 
blue,  a  golf  cap;  the  hands  that  held 
the  wheel  were  disguised  in  large  yel 
low  gloves.  He  brought  the  car  to  a 
9 


The  Boy  Scout 

halt  and  surveyed  the  dripping  figure 
in  the  road  with  tired  and  uncurious 
eyes. 

"You  a  Boy  Scout?"  he  asked. 

With  alacrity  for  the  twenty-first 
time  Jimmie  dropped  the  valise,  forced 
his  cramped  fingers  into  straight  lines, 
and  saluted. 

The  young  man  in  the  car  nodded  to 
ward  the  seat  beside  him. 

"Get  in,"  he  commanded. 

When  James  sat  panting  happily  at 
his  elbow  the  old  young  man,  to  Jim- 
mie's  disappointment,  did  not  continue 
to  shatter  the  speed  limit.  Instead,  he 
seemed  inclined  for  conversation,  and 
the  car,  growling  indignantly,  crawled. 

"I  never  saw  a  Boy  Scout  before," 
announced  the  old  young  man.  "Tell 
10 


The  Boy  Scout 

me  about  it.  First,  tell  me  what  you 
do  when  you're  not  scouting." 

Jimmie  explained  volubly.  When  not 
in  uniform  he  was  an  office-boy  and 
from  pedlers  and  beggars  guarded  the 
gates  of  Carroll  and  Hastings,  stock 
brokers.  He  spoke  the  names  of  his 
employers  with  awe.  It  was  a  firm 
distinguished,  conservative,  and  long- 
established.  The  white-haired  young 
man  seemed  to  nod  in  assent. 

"Do  you  know  them?"  demanded 
Jimmie  suspiciously.  "Are  you  a  cus 
tomer  of  ours?" 

"I  know  them,"  said  the  young  man. 
"TFiey  are  customers  of  mine." 

Jimmie  wondered  in  what  way  Car 
roll  and  Hastings  were  customers  of  the 
white-haired  young  man.  Judging  him 
II 


The  Boy  Scout 

by  his  outer  garments,  Jimmie  guessed 
he  was  a  Fifth  Avenue  tailor;  he  might 
be  even  a  haberdasher.  Jimmie  con 
tinued.  He  lived,  he  explained,  with 
his  mother  at  One  Hundred  and  Forty- 
sixth  Street;  Sadie,  his  sister,  attended 
the  public  school;  he  helped  support 
them  both,  and  he  now  was  about  to 
enjoy  a  well-earned  vacation  camping 
out  on  Hunter's  Island,  where  he  would 
cook  his  own  meals  and,  if  the  mosqui 
toes  permitted,  sleep  in  a  tent. 

"And  you  like  that?"  demanded  the 
young  man.  "You  call  that  fun?" 

"Sure!"  protested  Jimmie.  "Don't 
you  go  camping  out?" 

"I  go  camping  out,"  said  the  Good 
Samaritan,  "whenever  I  leave  New 
York." 

12 


The  Boy  Scout 

Jimmie  had  not  for  three  years  lived 
in  Wall  Street  not  to  understand  that 
the  young  man  spoke  in  metaphor. 

"  You  don't  look,"  objected  the  young 
man  critically,  "as  though  you  were 
built  for  the  strenuous  life." 

Jimmie  glanced  guiltily  at  his  white 
knees. 

"You  ought  ter  see  me  two  weeks 
from  now,"  he  protested.  "I-  get  all 
sunburnt  and  hard — hard  as  any 
thing!" 

The  young  man  was  incredulous. 

"You  were  near  getting  sunstroke 
when  I  picked  you  up,"  he  laughed. 
"If  you're  going  to  Hunter's  Island  why 
didn't  you  take  the  Third  Avenue  to 
Pelham  Manor?" 

"That's  right!"  assented  Jimmie  ea- 
13 


The  Boy  Scout 

gerly.  "  But  I  wanted  to  save  the  ten 
cents  so's  to  send  Sadie  to  the  movies. 
So  I  walked." 

The  young  man  looked  his  embarrass 
ment. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  murmured. 

But  Jimmie  did  not  hear  him.  From 
the  back  of  the  car  he  was  dragging  ex 
citedly  at  the  hated  suitcase. 

"Stop!"  he  commanded.  "I  got  ter 
get  out.  I  got  ter  walk." 

The  young  man  showed  his  surprise. 

"Walk!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  is  it 
-a  bet?" 

Jimmie  dropped  the  valise  and  fol 
lowed  it  into  the  roadway.  It  took 
some  time  to  explain  to  the  young  man. 
First,  he  had  to  be  told  about  the  scout 
law  and  the  one  good  turn  a  day,  and 
H 


The  Boy  Scout 

that  it  must  involve  some  personal  sac 
rifice.  And,  as  Jimmie  pointed  out, 
changing  from  a  slow  suburban  train  to 
a  racing-car  could  not  be  listed  as  a  sac 
rifice.  He  had  not  earned  the  money, 
Jimmie  argued;  he  had  only  avoided 
paying  it  to  the  railroad.  If  he  did  not 
walk  he  would  be  obtaining  the  grati 
tude  of  Sadie  by  a  falsehood.  There 
fore,  he  must  walk. 

"Not  at  all,"  protested  the  young 
man.  "You've  got  it  wrong.  What 
good  will  it  do  your  sister  to  have  you 
sunstruck?  I  think  you  are  sunstruck. 
You're  crazy  with  the  heat.  You  get 
in  here,  and  we'll  talk  it  over  as  we  go 
along." 

Hastily  Jimmie  backed  away.     "I'd 
rather  walk,"  he  said. 
15 


The  Boy  Scout 

The  young  man  shifted  his  legs  irri 
tably. 

"Then  how'll  this  suit  you?"  he 
called.  "We'll  declare  that  first  'one 
good  turn'  a  failure  and  start  afresh. 
Do  me  a  good  turn." 

Jimmie  halted  in  his  tracks  and  looked 
back  suspiciously. 

"I'm  going  to  Hunter's  Island  Inn," 
called  the  young  man,  "and  I've  lost 
my  way.  You  get  in  here  and  guide 
me.  That'll  be  doing  me  a  good  turn." 

On  either  side  of  the  road,  blotting 
out  the  landscape,  giant  hands  picked 
out  in  electric-light  bulbs  pointed  the 
way  to  Hunter's  Island  Inn.  Jimmie 
grinned  and  nodded  toward  them. 

"Much  obliged,"  he  called,  "I  got 
ter  walk."  Turning  his  back  upon 
16 


The  Boy  Scout 

temptation,    he   wabbled    forward    into 
the  flickering  heat  waves. 

The  young  man  did  not  attempt  to 
pursue.  At  the  side  of  the  road,  under 
the  shade  of  a  giant  elm,  he  had  brought 
the  car  to  a  halt  and  with  his  arms 
crossed  upon  the  wheel  sat  motionless, 
following  with  frowning  eyes  the  re 
treating  figure  of  Jimmie.  But  the 
narrow-chested  and  knock-kneed  boy 
staggering  over  the  sun-baked  asphalt 
no  longer  concerned  him.  It  was  not 
Jimmie,  but  the  code  preached  by  Jim 
mie,  and  not  only  preached  but  before 
his  eyes  put  into  practice,  that  inter 
ested  him.  The  young  man  with  white 
hair  had  been  running  away  from  temp 
tation.  At  forty  miles  an  hour  he  had 
17 


The  Boy  Scout 

been  running  away  from  the  tempta 
tion  to  do  a  fellow  mortal  "a  good 
turn."  That  morning,  to  the  appeal  of 
a  drowning  Caesar  to  "Help  me,  Cas- 
sius,  or  I  sink,"  he  had  answered, 
"Sink!"  That  answer  he  had  no  wish 
to  reconsider.  That  he  might  not  re 
consider  he  had  sought  to  escape.  It 
was  his  experience  that  a  sixty-horse 
power  racing-machine  is  a  jealous  mis 
tress.  For  retrospective,  sentimental, 
or  philanthropic  thoughts  she  grants  no 
leave  of  absence.  But  he  had  not  es 
caped.  Jimmie  had  halted  him,  tripped 
him  by  the  heels  and  set  him  again  to 
thinking.  Within  the  half-hour  that 
followed  those  who  rolled  past  saw  at 
the  side  of  the  road  a  car  with  her  en 
gine  running,  and  leaning  upon  the 
18 


The  Boy  Scout 

wheel,  as  unconscious  of  his  surround 
ings  as  though  he  sat  at  his  own  fire 
place,  a  young  man  who  frowned  and 
stared  at  nothing.  The  half-hour  passed 
and  the  young  man  swung  his  car  back 
toward  the  city.  But  at  the  first  road- 
house  that  showed  a  blue-and-white 
telephone  sign  he  left  it,  and  into  the 
iron  box  at  the  end  of  the  bar  dropped 
a  nickel.  He  wished  to  communicate 
with  Mr.  Carroll,  of  Carroll  and  Has 
tings;  and  when  he  learned  Mr.  Carroll 
had  just  issued  orders  that  he  must  not 
be  disturbed,  the  young  man  gave  his 
name. 

The  effect   upon  the  barkeeper  was 
instantaneous.     With  the  aggrieved  air 
of  one  who  feels  he  is  the  victim  of  a 
jest  he  laughed  scornfully. 
19 


The  Boy  Scout 

"What  are  you  putting  over?"  he 
demanded. 

The  young  man  smiled  reassuringly. 
He  had  begun  to  speak  and,  though  ap 
parently  engaged  with  the  beer-glass  he 
was  polishing,  the  barkeeper  listened. 

Down  in  Wall  Street  the  senior  mem 
ber  of  Carroll  and  Hastings  also  listened. 
He  was  alone  in  the  most  private  of  all 
his  private  offices,  and  when  interrupted 
had  been  engaged  in  what,  of  all  under 
takings,  is  the  most  momentous.  On 
the  desk  before  him  lay  letters  to  his 
lawyer,  to  the  coroner,  to  his  wife;  and 
hidden  by  a  mass  of  papers,  but  within 
reach  of  his  hand,  an  automatic  pistol. 
The  promise  it  offered  of  swift  release 
had  made  the  writing  of  the  letters 
simple,  had  given  him  a  feeling  of  com- 


20 


The  Boy  Scout 

plete  detachment,  had  released  him,  at 
least  in  thought,  from  all  responsibili 
ties.  And  when  at  his  elbow  the  tele 
phone  coughed  discreetly,  it  was  as 
though  some  one  had  called  him  from 
a  world  from  which  already  he  had 
made  his  exit. 

Mechanically,  through  mere  habit,  he 
lifted  the  receiver. 

The  voice  over  the  telephone  came  in 
brisk  staccato  sentences. 

"That  letter  I  sent  this  morning? 
Forget  it.  Tear  it  up.  I've  been  think 
ing  and  I'm  going  to  take  a  chance. 
I've  decided  to  back  you  boys,  and  I 
know  you'll  make  good.  I'm  speaking 
from  a  roadhouse  in  the  Bronx;  going 
straight  from  here  to  the  bank.  So 
you  can  begin  to  draw  against  us  within 
21 


The  Boy  Scout 

an  hour.  And — hello! — will  three  mil 
lions  see  you  through?" 

From  Wall  Street  there  came  no  an 
swer,  but  from  the  hands  of  the  bar 
keeper  a  glass  crashed  to  the  floor. 

The  young  man  regarded  the  bar 
keeper  with  puzzled  eyes. 

"He  doesn't  answer,"  he  exclaimed. 
"He  must  have  hung  up." 

"He  must  have  fainted!"  said  the 
barkeeper. 

The  white-haired  one  pushed  a  bill 
across  the  counter.  "To  pay  for  break 
age,"  he  said,  and  disappeared  down 
Pelham  Parkway. 

Throughout  the  day,  with  the  bill, 
for  evidence,  pasted  against  the  mirror, 
the  barkeeper  told  and  retold  the  won 
drous  tale. 

22 


The  Boy  Scout 

"He  stood  just  where  you're  standing 
now,"  he  related,  "blowing  in  million- 
dollar  bills  like  you'd  blow  suds  off  a 
beer.  If  I'd  knowed  it  was  him,  I'd 
have  hit  him  once,  and  hid  him  in  the 
cellar  for  the  reward.  Who'd  I  think 
he  was?  I  thought  he  was  a  wire-tap 
per,  working  a  con  game!" 

Mr.  Carroll  had  not  "hung  up," 
but  when  in  the  Bronx  the  beer-glass 
crashed,  in  Wall  Street  the  receiver  had 
slipped  from  the  hand  of  the  man  who 
held  it,  and  the  man  himself  had  fallen 
forward.  His  desk  hit  him  in  the  face 
and  woke  him — woke  him  to  the  won 
derful  fact  that  he  still  lived;  that  at 
forty  he  had  been  born  again;  that  be 
fore  him  stretched  many  more  years  in 
which,  as  the  young  man  with  the  white 
23 


The  Boy  Scout 

hair  had  pointed  out,  he  still  could 
make  good. 

The  afternoon  was  far  advanced  when 
the  staff  of  Carroll  and  Hastings  were 
allowed  to  depart,  and,  even  late  as  was 
the  hour,  two  of  them  were  asked  to 
remain.  Into  the  most  private  of  the 
private  offices  Carroll  invited  Gaskell, 
the  head  clerk;  in  the  main  office  Has 
tings  had  asked  young  Thorne,  the  bond 
clerk,  to  be  seated. 

Until  the  senior  partner  has  finished 
with  Gaskell  young  Thorne  must  remain 
seated. 

"Gaskell,"  said  Mr.  Carroll,  "if  we 
had  listened  to  you,  if  we'd  run  this 
place  as  it  was  when  father  was  alive, 
this  never  would  have  happened.  It 
hasnt  happened,  but  we've  had  our  les- 
24 


The  Boy  Scout 

son.  And  after  this  we're  going  slow 
and  going  straight.  And  we  don't  need 
you  to  tell  us  how  to  do  that.  We  want 
you  to  go  away — on  a  month's  vaca 
tion.  When  I  thought  we  were  going 
under  I  planned  to  send  the  children  on 
a  sea-voyage  with  the  governess — so 
they  wouldn't  see  the  newspapers.  But 
now  that  I  can  look  them  in  the  eye 
again,  I  need  them,  I  can't  let  them  go. 
So,  if  you'd  like  to  take  your  wife  on 
an  ocean  trip  to  Nova  Scotia  and  Que 
bec,  here  are  the  cabins  I  reserved  for 
the  kids.  They  call  it  the  Royal  Suite 
— whatever  that  is — and  the  trip  lasts 
a  month.  The  boat  sails  to-morrow 
morning.  Don't  sleep  too  late  or  you 
may  miss  her/' 

The    head    clerk   was    secreting    the 

25 


The  Boy  Scout 

tickets  in  the  inside  pocket  of  his  waist 
coat.  His  fingers  trembled,  and  when 
he  laughed  his  voice  trembled. 

"Miss  the  boat!"  the  head  clerk  ex 
claimed.  "If  she  gets  away  from  Mil 
lie  and  me  she's  got  to  start  now. 
We'll  go  on  board  to-night!" 

A  half-hour  later  Millie  was  on  her 
knees  packing  a  trunk,  and  her  hus 
band  was  telephoning  to  the  drug-store 
for  a  sponge  bag  and  a  cure  for  seasick 
ness. 

Owing  to  the  joy  in  her  heart  and  to 
the  fact  that  she  was  on  her  knees, 
Millie  was  alternately  weeping  into  the 
trunk-tray  and  offering  up  incoherent 
prayers  of  thanksgiving.  Suddenly  she 
sank  back  upon  the  floor. 

"John!"  she  cried,  "doesn't  it  seem 
26 


The  Boy  Scout 

sinful  to  sail  away  in  a  ' royal  suite'  and 
leave  this  beautiful  flat  empty?" 

Over  the  telephone  John  was  having 
trouble  with  the  drug  clerk. 

"No!"  he  explained,  "I'm  not  sea 
sick  now.  The  medicine  I  want  is  to 
be  taken  later.  I  know  I'm  speaking 
from  the  Pavonia;  but  the  Pavonia  isn't 
a  ship;  it's  an  apartment-house." 

He  turned  to  Millie.  "We  can't  be 
in  two  places  at  the  same  time,"  he 
suggested. 

"But,  think,"  insisted  Millie,  "of  all 
the  poor  people  stifling  to-night  in  this 
heat,  trying  to  sleep  on  the  roofs  and 
fire-escapes;  and  our  flat  so  cool  and 
big  and  pretty — and  no  one  in  it." 

John  nodded  his  head  proudly. 

"I  know  it's  big,"  he  said,  "but  it 


The  Boy  Scout 

isn't  big  enough  to  hold  all  the  people 
who  are  sleeping  to-night  on  the  roofs 
and  in  the  parks." 

"I  was  thinking  of  your  brother — 
and  Grace,"  said  Millie.  "They've 
been  married  only  two  weeks  now,  and 
they're  in  a  stuffy  hall  bedroom  and 
eating  with  all  the  other  boarders. 
Think  what  our  flat  would  mean  to 
them;  to  be  by  themselves,  with  eight 
rooms  and  their  own  kitchen  and  bath, 
and  our  new  refrigerator  and  the  gram 
ophone!  It  would  be  Heaven!  It 
would  be  a  real  honeymoon!" 

Abandoning  the  drug  clerk,  John 
lifted  Millie  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her, 
for  next  to  his  wife  nearest  his  heart 
was  the  younger  brother. 

The  younger  brother  and  Grace  were 

28 


The  Boy  Scout 

sitting  on  the  stoop  of  the  boarding- 
house.  On  the  upper  steps,  in  their 
shirt-sleeves,  were  the  other  boarders; 
so  the  bride  and  bridegroom  spoke  in 
whispers.  The  air  of  the  cross  street 
was  stale  and  stagnant;  from  it  rose 
exhalations  of  rotting  fruit,  the  gases 
of  an  open  subway,  the  smoke  of  pass 
ing  taxicabs.  But  between  the  street 
and  the  hall  bedroom,  with  its  odors  of 
a  gas-stove  and  a  kitchen,  the  choice 
was  difficult. 

"We've  got  to  cool  off  somehow," 
the  young  husband  was  saying,  "or  you 
won't  sleep.  Shall  we  treat  ourselves 
to  ice-cream  sodas  or  a  trip  on  the 
Weehawken  ferry-boat?" 

"The  ferry-boat!"  begged  the  girl, 
"where  we  can  get  away  from  all  these 
people." 

29 


The  Boy  Scout 

A  taxicab  with  a  trunk  in  front 
whirled  into  the  street,  kicked  itself  to 
a  stop,  and  the  head  clerk  and  Millie 
spilled  out  upon  the  pavement.  They 
talked  so  fast,  and  the  younger  brother 
and  Grace  talked  so  fast,  that  the 
boarders,  although  they  listened  in 
tently,  could  make  nothing  of  it. 

They  distinguished  only  the  conclud 
ing  sentences: 

"Why  don't  you  drive  down  to  the 
wharf  with  us,"  they  heard  the  elder 
brother  ask,  "and  see  our  royal  suite?" 

But  the  younger  brother  laughed  him 
to  scorn. 

"What's  your  royal  suite,"  he  mocked, 
"to  our  royal  palace?" 

An  hour  later,  had  the  boarders  lis 
tened  outside  the  flat  of  the  head  clerk, 
30 


The  Boy  Scout 

they  would  have  heard  issuing  from  his 
bathroom  the  cooling  murmur  of  run 
ning  water  and  from  his  gramophone 
the  jubilant  notes  of  "Alexander's  Rag 
time  Band." 

When  in  his  private  office  Carroll  was 
making  a  present  of  the  royal  suite  to 
the  head  clerk,  in  the  main  office  Has 
tings,  the  junior  partner,  was  addressing 
" Champ"  Thorne,  the  bond  clerk.  He 
addressed  him  familiarly  and  affection 
ately  as  "Champ."  This  was  due 
partly  to  the  fact  that  twenty-six  years 
before  Thorne  had  been  christened 
Champneys  and  to  the  coincidence  that 
he  had  captained  the  football  eleven  of 
one  of  the  Big  Three  to  the  champion 
ship. 

"Champ,"  said  Mr.  Hastings,  "last 
3* 


The  Boy  Scout 

month,  when  you  asked  me  to  raise  your 
salary,  the  reason  I  didn't  do  it  was  not 
because  you  didn't  deserve  it,  but  be 
cause  I  believed  if  we  gave  you  a  raise 
you'd  immediately  get  married." 

The  shoulders  of  the  ex-football  cap 
tain  rose  aggressively;  he  snorted  with 
indignation. 

"And  why  should  I  not  get  mar 
ried?"  he  demanded.  "You're  a  fine 
one  to  talk!  You're  the  most  offen 
sively  happy  married  man  I  ever  met." 

"Perhaps  I  know  I  am  happy  better 
than  you  do,"  reproved  the  junior  part 
ner;  "but  I  know  also  that  it  takes 
money  to  support  a  wife." 

"You  raise  me  to  a  hundred  a  week," 
urged  Champ,  "and  I'll  make  it  support 
a  wife  whether  it  supports  me  or  not." 
32 


The  Boy  Scout 

"A  month  ago,"  continued  Hastings, 
"we  could  have  promised  you  a  hun 
dred,  but  we  didn't  know  how  long  we 
could  pay  it.  We  didn't  want  you  to 
rush  off  and  marry  some  fine  girl— 

"Some  fine  girl!"  muttered  Mr. 
Thorne.  "The  Finest  Girl!" 

"The  finer  the  girl,"  Hastings  pointed 
out,  "the  harder  it  would  have  been 
for  you  if  we  had  failed  and  you  had 
lost  your  job." 

The  eyes  of  the  young  man  opened 
with  sympathy  and  concern. 

"Is  it  as  bad  as  that?"  he  murmured. 

Hastings  sighed  happily. 

"It  was"  he  said,  "but  this  morn 
ing  the  Young  Man  of  Wall  Street  did 
us  a  good  turn — saved  us — saved  our 
creditors,  saved  our  homes,  saved  our 
33 


The  Boy  Scout 

honor.  We're  going  to  start  fresh  and 
pay  our  debts,  and  we  agreed  the  first 
debt  we  paid  would  be  the  small  one 
we  owe  you.  You've  brought  us  more 
than  we've  given,  and  if  you'll  stay 
with  us  we're  going  to  'see'  your  fifty 
and  raise  it  a  hundred.  What  do  you 
say?" 

Young  Mr.  Thorne  leaped  to  his  feet. 
What  he  said  was:  "Where'n  hell's  my 
hat?" 

But  by  the  time  he  had  found  the  hat 
and  the  door  he  mended  his  manners. 

"I  say,  'thank  you  a  thousand 
times,'"  he  shouted  over  his  shoulder. 
"Excuse  me,  but  I've  got  to  go.  I've 
got  to  break  the  news  to — 

He  did  not  explain  to  whom  he  was 
going  to  break  the  news;  but  Hastings 
34 


The  Boy  Scout 

must  have  guessed,  for  again  he  sighed 
happily  and  then,  a  little  hysterically, 
laughed  aloud.  Several  months  had 
passed  since  he  had  laughed  aloud. 

In  his  anxiety  to  break  the  news 
Champ  Thorne  almost  broke  his  neck. 
In  his  excitement  he  could  not  remem 
ber  whether  the  red  flash  meant  the 
elevator  was  going  down  or  coming  up, 
and  sooner  than  wait  to  find  out  he 
started  to  race  down  eighteen  flights  of 
stairs  when  fortunately  the  elevator- 
door  swung  open. 

"You  get  five  dollars,"  he  announced 
to  the  elevator  man,  "if  you  drop  to 
the  street  without  a  stop.  Beat  the 
speed  limit!  Act  like  the  building  is 
on  fire  and  you're  trying  to  save  me 
before  the  roof  falls." 
35 


The  Boy  Scout 

Senator  Barnes  and  his  entire  family, 
which  was  his  daughter  Barbara,  were 
at  the  Ritz-Carlton.  They  were  in 
town  in  August  because  there  was  a 
meeting  of  the  directors  of  the  Brazil 
and  Cuyaba  Rubber  Company,  of  which 
company  Senator  Barnes  was  president. 
It  was  a  secret  meeting.  Those  direct 
ors  who  were  keeping  cool  at  the  edge 
of  the  ocean  had  been  summoned  by 
telegraph;  those  who  were  steaming 
across  the  ocean,  by  wireless. 

Up  from  the  equator  had  drifted  the 
threat  of  a  scandal,  sickening,  grim, 
terrible.  As  yet  it  burned  beneath  the 
surface,  giving  out  only  an  odor,  but 
an  odor  as  rank  as  burning  rubber  itself. 
At  any  moment  it  might  break  into 
flame.  For  the  directors,  was  it  the 
36 


The  Boy  Scout 

better  wisdom  to  let  the  scandal  smoul 
der,  and  take  a  chance,  or  to  be  the 
first  to  give  the  alarm,  the  first  to  lead 
the  way  to  the  horror  and  stamp  it 
out? 

It  was  to  decide  this  that,  in  the  heat 
of  August,  the  directors  and  the  presi 
dent  had  foregathered. 

Champ  Thorne  knew  nothing  of  this; 
he  knew  only  that  by  a  miracle  Bar 
bara  Barnes  was  in  town;  that  at  last 
he  was  in  a  position  to  ask  her  to  marry 
him;  that  she  would  certainly  say  she 
would.  That  was  all  he  cared  to  know. 

A  year  before  he  had  issued  his 
declaration  of  independence.  Before 
he  could  marry,  he  told  her,  he  must 
be  able  to  support  a  wife  on  what  he 
earned,  without  her  having  to  accept 
37 


The  Boy  Scout 

money  from  her  father,  and  until  he 
received  "a  minimum  wage"  of  five 
thousand  dollars  they  must  wait. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  my  fa 
ther's  money?"  Barbara  had  demanded. 

Thorne  had  evaded  the  direct  ques 
tion. 

"There  is  too  much  of  it,"  he  said. 

"Do  you  object  to  the  way  he  makes 
it?"  insisted  Barbara.  "Because  rub 
ber  is  most  useful.  You  put  it  in  golf 
balls  and  auto  tires  and  galoches. 
There  is  nothing  so  perfectly  respect 
able  as  galoches.  And  what  is  there 
*  tainted'  about  a  raincoat." 

Thorne  shook  his  head  unhappily. 

"It's    not    the    finished    product    to 
which    I    refer,"    he   stammered;     "it's 
the  way  they  get  the  raw  material." 
38 


The  Boy  Scout 

"They  get  it  out  of  trees,"  said  Bar 
bara.  Then  she  exclaimed  with  enlight 
enment — "Oh!"  she  cried,  "you  are 
thinking  of  the  Congo.  There  it  is  ter 
rible!  That  is  slavery.  But  there  are 
no  slaves  on  the  Amazon.  The  natives 
are  free  and  the  work  is  easy.  They  just 
tap  the  trees  the  way  the  farmers  gather 
sugar  in  Vermont.  Father  has  told  me 
about  it  often." 

Thorne  had  made  no  comment.  He 
could  abuse  a  friend,  if  the  friend  were 
among  those  present,  but  denouncing 
any  one  he  disliked  as  heartily  as  he 
disliked  Senator  Barnes  was  a  public 
service  he  preferred  to  leave  to  others. 
And  he  knew  besides  that,  if  the  father 
she  loved  and  the  man  she  loved 
distrusted  each  other,  Barbara  would 
39 


The  Boy  Scout 

not  rest  until  she  learned  the  reason 
why. 

One  day,  in  a  newspaper,  Barbara  read 
of  the  Puju  Mayo  atrocities,  of  the  In 
dian  slaves  in  the  jungles  and  back  wa 
ters  of  the  Amazon,  who  are  offered  up 
as  sacrifices  to  "red  rubber."  She  car 
ried  the  paper  to  her  father.  What  it 
said,  her  father  told  her,  was  untrue, 
and  if  it  were  true  it  was  the  first  he 
had  heard  of  it. 

Senator  Barnes  loved  the  good  things 
of  life,  but  the  thing  he  loved  most  was 
his  daughter;  the  thing  he  valued  the 
highest  was  her  good  opinion.  So  when 
for  the  first  time  she  looked  at  him  in 
doubt,  he  assured  her  he  at  once  would 
order  an  investigation. 

"But,  of  course,"  he  added,  "it  will 
40 


The  Boy  Scout 

be  many  months  before  our  agents  can 
report.  On  the  Amazon  news  travels 
very  slowly." 

In  the  eyes  of  his  daughter  the  doubt 
still  lingered. 

"I  am  afraid,"  she  said,  "that  that 


is  true." 


That  was  six  months  before  the  di 
rectors  of  the  Brazil  and  Cuyaba  Rubber 
Company  were  summoned  to  meet  their 
president  at  his  rooms  in  the  Ritz- 
Carlton.  They  were  due  to  arrive  in 
half  an  hour,  and  while  Senator  Barnes 
awaited  their  coming  Barbara  came  to 
him.  In  her  eyes  was  a  light  that  helped 
to  tell  the  great  news.  It  gave  him  a 
sharp,  jealous  pang.  He  wanted  at 
once  to  play  a  part  in  her  happiness,  to 
make  her  grateful  to  him,  not  alone  to 


The  Boy  Scout 

this  stranger  who  was  taking  her  away. 
So  fearful  was  he  that  she  would  shut 
him  out  of  her  life  that  had  she  asked 
for  half  his  kingdom  he  would  have 
parted  with  it. 

"And  besides  giving  my  consent," 
said  the  rubber  king,  "for  which  no 
one  seems  to  have  asked,  what  can  I 
give  my  little  girl  to  make  her  remem 
ber  her  old  father?  Some  diamonds  to 
put  on  her  head,  or  pearls  to  hang 
around  her  neck,  or  does  she  want  a 
vacant  lot  on  Fifth  Avenue?" 

The  lovely  hands  of  Barbara  rested 
upon  his  shoulders;  her  lovely  face  was 
raised  to  his;  her  lovely  eyes  were  ap 
pealing,  and  a  little  frightened. 

"What   would    one    of  those    things 
cost?"  asked  Barbara. 
42 


The  Boy  Scout 

The  question  was  eminently  practical. 
It  came  within  the  scope  of  the  sena 
tor's  understanding.  After  all,  he  was 
not  to  be  cast  into  outer  darkness.  His 
smile  was  complacent.  He  answered 
airily: 

"Anything  you  like,"  he  said;  "a 
million  dollars?" 

The  fingers  closed  upon  his  shoul 
ders.  The  eyes,  still  frightened,  still 
searched  his  in  appeal. 

"Then  for  my  wedding-present,"  said 
the  girl,  "I  want  you  to  take  that  mil 
lion  dollars  and  send  an  expedition  to 
the  Amazon.  And  I  will  choose  the 
men.  Men  unafraid;  men  not  afraid 
of  fever  or  sudden  death;  not  afraid 
to  tell  the  truth — even  to  you.  And 
all  the  world  will  know.  And  they — 
43 


The  Boy  Scout 

I  mean  you — will  set  those  people 
free!" 

Senator  Barnes  received  the  directors 
with  an  embarrassment  which  he  con 
cealed  under  a  manner  of  just  indigna 
tion. 

"My  mind  is  made  up,"  he  told 
them.  "  Existing  conditions  cannot  con 
tinue.  And  to  that  end,  at  my  own 
expense,  I  am  sending  an  expedition 
across  South  America.  It  will  investi 
gate,  punish,  and  establish  reforms.  I 
suggest,  on  account  of  this  damned  heat, 
we  do  now  adjourn." 

That  night,  over  on  Long  Island,  Car 
roll  told  his  wife  all,  or  nearly  all.  He 
did  not  tell  her  about  the  automatic 
pistol.  And  together  on  tiptoe  they 
crept  to  the  nursery  and  looked  down  at 
44 


The  Boy  Scout 

their  sleeping  children.  When  she  rose 
from  her  knees  the  mother  said,  "But 
how  can  I  thank  him?" 

By  "him"  she  meant  the  Young  Man 
of  Wall  Street. 

"You  never  can  thank  him,"  said 
Carroll;  "that's  the  worst  of  it." 

But  after  a  long  silence  the  mother 
said:  "I  will  send  him  a  photograph 
of  the  children.  Do  you  think  he  will 
understand?" 

Down  at  Seabright,  Hastings  and  his 
wife  walked  in  the  sunken  garden.  The 
moon  was  so  bright  that  the  roses  still 
held  their  color. 

"I  would  like  to  thank  him,"   said 
the  young  wife.     She  meant  the  Young 
Man  of  Wall  Street.     "  But  for  him  we 
would  have  lost  this." 
45 


The  Boy  Scout 

Her  eyes  caressed  the  garden,  the 
fruit-trees,  the  house  with  wide,  hospi 
table  verandas.  "To-morrow  I  will 
send  him  some  of  these  roses,"  said  the 
young  wife.  "Will  he  understand  that 
they  mean  our  home?" 

At  a  scandalously  late  hour,  in 
a  scandalous  spirit  of  independence, 
Champ  Thorne  and  Barbara  were  driv 
ing  around  Central  Park  in  a  taxicab. 

"How  strangely  the  Lord  moves,  his 
wonders  to  perform,"  misquoted  Bar 
bara.  "Had  not  the  Young  Man  of 
Wall  Street  saved  Mr.  Hastings,  Mr. 
Hastings  could  not  have  raised  your 
salary;  you  would  not  have  asked  me  to 
marry  you,  and  had  you  not  asked  me 
to  marry  you,  father  would  not  have 
given  me  a  wedding-present,  and " 


The  Boy  Scout 

"And,"  said  Champ,  taking  up  the 
tale,  "thousands  of  slaves  would  still 
be  buried  in  the  jungles,  hidden  away 
from  their  wives  and  children,  and  the 
light  of  the  sun  and  their  fellow  men. 
They  still  would  be  dying  of  fever, 
starvation,  tortures." 

He  took  her  hand  in  both  of  his  and 
held  her  finger-tips  against  his  lips. 

"And  they  will  never  know,"  he 
whispered,  "when  their  freedom  comes, 
that  they  owe  it  all  to  you." 

On  Hunter's  Island  Jimmie  Reeder 
and  his  bunkie,  Sam  Sturges,  each  on 
his  canvas  cot,  tossed  and  twisted.  The 
heat,  the  moonlight,  and  the  mosquitoes 
would  not  let  them  even  think  of  sleep. 

"That  was  bully,"  said  Jimmie,  "what 
47 


The  Boy  Scout 

you  did  to-day  about  saving  that  dog. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  you  he'd  ha' 
drownded." 

"He  would  not!"  said  Sammy  with 
punctilious  regard  for  the  truth;  "it 
wasn't  deep  enough." 

"Well,  the  scout-master  ought  to 
know,"  argued  Jimmie;  "he  said  it 
was  the  best  'one  good  turn'  of  the 
day!" 

Modestly  Sam  shifted  the  limelight 
so  that  it  fell  upon  his  bunkie. 

"I'll  bet,"  he  declared  loyally,  "your 
'one  good  turn'  was  a  better  one!" 

Jimmie  yawned,  and  then  laughed 
scornfully. 

"Me,"  he  scoffed,  "I  didn't  do  noth 
ing.  I  sent  my  sister  to  the  movies." 


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